


Undercover Blues

by dishonestdreams



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, FBI agents, Gen, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-27 11:23:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20406934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dishonestdreams/pseuds/dishonestdreams
Summary: In which Jared complains about getting in trouble for doing his job, and Chad is both unsympathetic and entirely right





	Undercover Blues

**Author's Note:**

> Comment ficlet from about 150 years ago that I just found in my wip folder. In theory, it should form part of a much larger story, but since I never have time to write all the much larger stories, I figured I might as well share it anyway. Enjoy?

Jared dropped onto the couch with a groan, throwing one arm across his eyes in a desperate (and probably futile, but Jared always had been the eternal optimist) attempt to block out the world and everyone in it for at least a few moments.

“I hate my job.”

From the other side of the staff lounge, where he was sprawled across the battered easy chair that had seen better days, doing something that looked far too energetic to be work-related with his cell, Chad snorted, “What the-fuck-ever, no, you don’t.”

“I do,” Jared said insistently, letting his hand drop down heavily against his thigh, “Or, at least, right _ now_ I do. I just got reamed out by half the directors in the damn agency.” Chad cocked one eyebrow, disbelief writ large all over his face and Jared sighed, “Fine, by what _felt_ like half the directors anyway.”

Chad tipped his cell hard to the left suddenly and then scowled. “Fucker,” he said, “That was my last life just got wasted on your whining.”

Jared shot him a glare and rubbed his hand down across his face, feeling the grit of too-little sleep under his eyelids and the reluctant tug of grime against his skin. Fuck, he needed a shower and a bed and not necessarily in that order, “Oh, I’m sorry. Is my career crisis interfering with your lifelong mission to beat some high-schooler’s top score on pacman?”

“Are you getting fired?” Chad said bluntly, swinging his legs down to lean forward in his seat and fixing Jared with a pointed stare.

Jared blinked. “I don’t...think so?”

“If you were, you’d know it,” Chad said, dropping back into his seat, “So it’s not a career crisis, it’s a fucking princess pout, so suck it up and stop acting like a pussy. So you got yelled at? So what? Welcome to the world of real agency work, rookie.”

Jared blinked again because, for all the facade of relaxation, that was real tension in Chad’s sprawl and that had been actual bite under those words; something dirty-real that left him with a horrible, sneaking suspicion that he may have just genuinely offended Chad. And, yeah, Chad was a douche but he was the kind of douche Jared would trust to have his back in a pinch and most of the time Jared genuinely liked the guy. “I’m sorry?” he offered, tentatively.

Chad stared at him for a second and then dropped his head back against the chair with a groan, “Christ, Padalecki, are you sure you weren’t really born a girl? If you try to kiss and make up next, I’m going to kick you in the balls.”

Jared held his hands up in the universally placating gesture, “No kissing, I swear. Just the apology.”

Chad squinted at him suspiciously, “Good,” he said decisively, “Because I am not down with that shit, at all.” He paused for a second, “Since you’ve dragged us into gay-sharing-caring mode anyway, you might as well spill. What’d you get reamed out for?”

Just the question was enough to have the muscles across the top of Jared’s shoulders tightening involuntarily and he rolled them back in a useless attempt to shift the tension, “They don’t think I’ve made enough progress on Ackles in the last three weeks.”

“Right,” Chad said slowly, “But that’s true. You haven’t made _ any_ progress on Ackles. What’s got your panties in a twist about that?”

Jared scowled, the sensation sitting unfamiliar and uncomfortable on his brow, “Three weeks, Chad. _ Three weeks_. I haven’t even had enough time to finish going through the old files yet, let alone start trying to link in with anything new.” The injustice of the whole thing coiled tight in his belly again, reappearing like an old, unwanted fling, and he glanced over his shoulder, back down the corridor toward his cubicle where he knew, he _ knew_, the goddamn files were still waiting, taunting him. Hell, he’d already reached the point where he was dreaming about the damn things; he honest-to-god didn’t know what else Director Morgan was expecting him to _ do_

“You’re going through all the old files?” Chad’s question dragged his attention back into the room and Jared looked back at him quizzically. Chad was looking at him with an odd expression that Jared couldn’t quite place. Jared nodded.

“_ All_ of them?” Chad’s voice took on a slightly disbelieving tone as he repeated himself and Jared shrugged.

“Well, yeah,” he said, “Wouldn’t you?”

Chad snorted, “’Course not, dumbfuck,” he said, “You don’t have time for that shit at the _ start_ of a case. You read the summaries as fast as you possibly can and then you get the fuck out there and start _ doing_ something. Save the details for when you’re out of leads and out of luck.” He shook his head, “Such a fucking rookie, Padalecki. You have to get in Ackles’ face, make him notice you, see what he gives you without meaning to; the files’ll still be there when you get back, assuming he doesn’t just shoot your ass off first.”

Jared rubbed the heel of his hand against his forehead, distractedly aware of the hint of an ache just lurking behind his eyeballs. It wasn’t _ entirely_ insane, as plans went but it kinda flew in the face of everything he’d been told at Quantico. “Seriously?”

“Ackles is out there fucking up the city while you’re sitting on your ass reading about shit he pulled ten years ago,” Chad said, “The only thing time means in this job is more headlines about dead kids and drug murders and all _ that_ brings is the shit raining down on your head from a great height.”

There was a pause, a long moment where Chad stared at Jared and Jared stared at Chad and, yeah, okay, Jared couldn’t deny it. Chad definitely had a point. Unfortunately.

“I...kinda hadn’t thought about it like that,” Jared admitted.

“No, you were too busy whining like a little bitch,” Chad said, with a smirk, and Jared scowled again.

“Fuck you, Murray,” he bit out and Chad grinned suddenly.

“Not my thing,” he said, gleefully, “This ass is strictly ladies only. But that does give me a hell of an idea.”

Jared stared at him, a sinking feeling settling in the base of his stomach. No matter how he turned it in his head, there was just no way this conversation was going to end well. “Given the context, I’m not sure I want to know,” he said, “Am I gonna hate it?”

“Depends,” Chad said, his grin widening to a leer and Jared narrowed his eyes.

“On what, exactly?”

“On just how hot you think Ackles’ mugshot is.”


End file.
